Merrick approached his aunt as she continued to stare at Holland. “Promise me you will take good care of him while I am gone. He is more important to me than you’ll ever understand.”
“I see that. I’m sure that between us we can manage his requirements with ease.” She drew in a deep breath, then stood and crossed the room, pulling up a footstool to sit beside Holland. Although rather shocked by her actions, he walked away. He had bigger problems than Aunt Pen’s sudden compliance to deal with.
Together with Grayling he searched the main floor and, on the off chance that Arabella had returned abovestairs in the interim, sent a servant up to her room to check again. She wasn’t found and no one remembered seeing her.
Merrick returned to the green room and studied the space. A faint breeze stirred through the room, rustling the leaves of the delicate orchids Arabella kept here. Merrick approached the tall windows and tested the latches. One was unlocked, and as he paid closer attention, he saw a thread caught on the window frame.
His blood ran cold as he surveyed the view from the window. With all the trees studding the grounds, it was impossible to see far outside in any direction. Arabella could be anywhere, and he very much feared that Farnsworth had returned to take her away.
His hands curled into fists. If Farnsworth had harmed her again, he’d kill him this time.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The ties on Arabella’s wrists had long since burned tender marks onto her skin as she’d tried to free herself again through the endless day that had just passed. She stared at her throbbing wrists helplessly. It was no use. Despite her best efforts, the knot remained firmly tied. She was hobbled—hands tied to her feet by a short rope between—denied any freedom of movement or any hope of escape from Winslette’s ruins.
As the sun lowered in the sky, tendrils of fog rose from the nearby river, gradually cocooning her and her brother-in-law in a private world. She shivered as a chill swept over her skin. Cut off from everything and everyone she held dear, she’d no idea what plans Farnsworth had made, but she was sure she wasn’t going to like them.
She hunched forward, attempting to reach her chilled legs and rub some warmth into them while scanning the view available to her for a means of escape. There were one or two rough-looking men outside the ruins, but they didn’t look her way once.
Across the ruins, Farnsworth stared intently into the thickening fog, looking not at Winslette House but away from it. When he’d taken her from the house, he had spoken only a few words, threatening to hurt Merrick if she didn’t come quietly. He’d already killed Holland simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once she’d glimpsed the rough company he now kept, she’d agreed to go quietly as there were three little girls, Rosemary, and Lady Penelope in the house.
Arabella bit her lip to hold back tears.
“Won’t be long now,” Farnsworth said with a terse nod in the direction of the disused road.
“What was that?” Arabella had kept up a constant stream of questions but had received little by way of response. All Farnsworth had said about his intentions so far was that he was waiting and then everything would be well again.
“The solution is at hand.” He smiled and the sight chilled her to the core.
She swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. She considered asking him to explain but decided against it. “May I have a drink?”
She might need to scream or to plead for help from whomever was on his way. Her mouth tasted of ashes. Surprisingly, Farnsworth revealed a travel case and produced a fine crystal goblet and bottle of red wine. He poured her a glass as if they were on a picnic and held it to her lips as a lover would. She attempted to sip, but his hand rose, forcing too much into her mouth at once. She swallowed quickly, only to regret it. The wine was rancid. Bitter.
She turned her face away, but his fingers dug into her hair, tugging her head around painfully until she held still. He forced her to drink the rest.
“You’d best learn to do what you’re told now or come to regret it later.” A cruel smile twisted Farnsworth’s lips. “He won’t like disobedience from you.”
Arabella blinked as a wave of tiredness swept her. “Who?”
“The man you were too stupid to marry.” He shrugged. “Now who knows what his intentions are? It’s none of my business. All debts will be paid and I’ll be free of the yoke about my neck. It’s a shame you had to be so disobliging to your family.”
In the failing light, she studied her brother-in-law critically, determined not to give in to fear and fall to pieces at the news that he was again using her as a means to cover his debts. Farnsworth appeared disheveled and weary. He was desperate.
“There,” he said suddenly.
Arabella jerked her head up as he stepped from the ruins and strode a few yards farther away. Arabella watched him carefully for signs he would turn back to check on her and then tried to stand. Pain exploded as sharp needles of pain lanced her feet. She sat with a thump, realizing that her feet were utterly numb from being bound like this. She couldn’t run fast if she tried. She bit her lip as the world swayed just enough to make her feel she could fall.
When she raised her head, the rough fellows Farnsworth had employed had come closer and were laughing at her. Their images danced in her vision and her stomach rolled disconcertingly.
Farnsworth stopped at the edge of the old roadway and set his hands to his hips. Arabella caught the sound of movement beyond him and fought to focus her eyes. She heard horses, tack jingling in the distance, and then men carrying lanterns appeared.
“This is the devil of a place to meet, Farnsworth. I thought Winslette would offer a finer welcome than this. You’d better have delivered what your invitation promised.”
A dark shape joined Farnsworth, though she could not identify who it might be immediately. He was tall. His voice held a demanding edge to it that nagged her memory.
“She’s waiting. Exactly as I believe you like your women.”
“Good.”
Farnsworth turned and gestured to where she sat. “There she is. As you can see, Parker, she’s docile enough for your plans.”
Lord Parker came closer, his smile showing his delight and his greatcoat sweeping back from his body like the giant wings of death. “My dear lady. How well you look this evening.”
“Help me,” she begged, her words slurring. She lifted her heavy, bound wrists for him to inspect. It was growing harder to focus. “Farnsworth stole me away.”
She shook her head, hoping to clear her foggy mind.
Lord Parker came close enough that he could inspect her bound hands. His fingers caressed the rough ropes and the reddened skin beneath, but he did not untie her. “You’ve done well, Farnsworth. How long ago was she drugged?”
Arabella gaped when Farnsworth smiled. “Not long. A double dose since you’ve a ways to travel.”
It must have been the wine. She forced herself to relax as Parker untied the rope between her hands and feet. Her feet tingled a little as she shuffled her feet. Given how they felt, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk away, let alone run, if an opportunity presented itself.
Parker turned his back on her. “The gag will solve any difficulties when the potion wears off on the journey. I’d rather not be disturbed by busybodies. The dose you gave will serve. Too little and she might cry out an alarm and draw attention. Too much…”
He left the rest unsaid and she shivered.